


From Up in the Sky, They're Just People

by Flyleaf02



Series: Character Development [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha Dean Winchester, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Future, Anxiety, But detailed masturbation session, Character Development, Civil War, Comfort/Angst, Conditioning, Domestic, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Mental Health Issues, No Smut, Omega Castiel, POV Dean Winchester, POV Third Person Limited, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Slash, Recovery, Self-Worth Issues, past abusive relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-26
Updated: 2018-11-26
Packaged: 2019-08-29 22:12:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16752418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flyleaf02/pseuds/Flyleaf02
Summary: In retrospect, he realizes now how extremely lucky he'd been, out of the five, it ended up being the worst yet the easiest of his rescues. Only a day spent on the curb, an empty house and the correct room on the first try: the closet in the corner had a crude deadbolt on it and a lock. It was a joke to open the door.It stopped being funny as soon as he smelled more than saw the terrified omega chained to the floor. The stench of terror was so heavy and thick, he growled softly in discomfort as he flicked the light on in a shocked daze. The omega had shackles around his ankles, wrists and neck, laid out on the floor, unmoving and covered in varying shades of bruises.





	From Up in the Sky, They're Just People

**Author's Note:**

> [Follow the Leader by Matthew Ryan](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lHvJtcDpWVg)   
>  [I Should Fly by Vermillion Lies](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pmPNhNLSJJg)

 

It was supposed to be a dog. The whining immediately followed by pained yelps through the thin walls of the bungalow —even the empty dog house in the fenced backyard out back with the dirty metal chain pointed into that direction.

He was merely passing through town, it wasn't his business. But again those things never were. He couldn't save them all, he knew that, still wasn't about to stop trying. Dean could already hear Jo laughing at him, “ _Another_ dog, really? How many does that make you? Twenty?” It would have been five, actually. All off to be loved and cared for by good families. He couldn’t afford to keep them, didn’t have the time, working as much as he did.

It's a particularly nasty wail coming from the rundown house that made up his mind. No use calling the cops either. Dean tried that exactly once. The impatient man on the other line told him off; they don't care for abused dogs or omegas. _Stop wasting my time._ So Dean parked his car on the curb and waited, hoping against all odds that the occupants would have to leave the bungalow before Dean needed food or a bathroom break. Or got spotted, put face to face with a suspicious neighbor and the barrel of a gun.

He watched the morning quickly waste away into afternoon into evening, the chilly autumnal sun setting below the horizon.

Wired by the waiting game he was putting himself through, Dean could feel little more than his heart hammering inside his rib-cage when a man let himself out of the dirty bungalow and locked the door behind him. He was dressed in jeans, a dark colored polyester vest and work boots. Just a guy filling in the night shift at some factory in town Dean guessed. Even from afar, Dean could tell by his posturing, jerky movements and straight back that the man was an alpha. Dean growled threateningly under his breath.

Parked in the driveway, the pickup door slammed shut and he watched the man fire up the engine and drive off. Was he really just gonna walk in there and risk being seen? What if the alpha didn't leave alone? But he was out of his late dad’s old 67’ Chevy Impala already, sprinting up the street so he stopped thinking about it. Jumping the backyard fence, he wasted no time in trying the doors. No doubt in Dean's mind that they were all locked. He picked up a stray leaf rake laying on a set of old tires by the dog house and rammed it through the nearest window.

Dean cringed at the racket he was making. _Great_ , he had officially crossed the line into criminal behavior, Jo was going to be so _proud_. He snorted humorlessly.

Hurriedly sweeping the handle around the frame to clear out most of the shards in a clatter of broken glass falling, Dean dropped the rake onto the ground and used the long sleeves of his leather jacket to protect his hands as he climbed over the window sill. He landed in the master bedroom.

Beer bottles, some full some not, less than clean laundry, a _lot_ of trash, the bed was in a sorry state too, complete with gag-worthy stains, but most of all the room was empty.

Listening carefully for footsteps, Dean heard none. No scratching, no whining, nothing.

In retrospect, he realizes now how extremely lucky he'd been, out of the five, it ended up being the worst yet the easiest of his rescues. Only a day spent on the curb, an empty house and the correct room on the first try: the closet in the corner had a crude deadbolt on it and a lock. It was a joke to open the door.

It stopped being funny as soon as he smelled more than saw the terrified omega chained to the floor. The stench of terror was so heavy and thick, he growled softly in discomfort as he flicked the light on in a shocked daze. The omega had shackles around his ankles, wrists and neck, laid out on the floor, unmoving and covered in varying shades of bruises. Breathing heavily, he cast a wide-eyed blue glance at the towering alpha over him.

Their gaze looked for the longest moment of Dean’s existence. A few seconds, before the omega whimpered a pathetic scared noise and tried drawing up his knees to protect his vulnerable parts. Which were tightly locked in a cock cage.

Switching into action, Dean kneeled by the squirming omega and fished around in his right pocket for the heavy-duty pliers he'd taken out of the trunk of his car. Abused dogs were usually held in chains, it just made sense to keep them on his person.

God, this was _not_ a dog.

In a few swift movements, he snipped off the chains at the omega's ankles and wrists, leaving the shackles on. There was a key somewhere in that hell hole fit to open them but Dean was not going to look for it. Fifty percent chance the alpha had left with it, and they needed out _now._

The omega cried out when Dean brought the pliers near his face and jerked away as far as the chain attached to his neck allowed which amounted to nowhere, hitting Dean in the shoulder with his flailing in the process.

Losing patience —he was panicking, he knew he was, this was not a dog, _not_ a dog, _shit_ _—_ Dean snapped at him, “ ** _Stop moving._** ”

Freezing in abject terror, the omega did as told and sobbed weakly when the pliers easily went through metal at the nape of his neck. Shoving them back into his pocket, Dean made a quick grab of the flimsy blanket under the hyperventilating, very naked omega and wrapped him up before heaving him up off the floor.

The blanket was thankfully unsoiled as, from what he’d heard in the few minutes he'd been close enough to overhear, the omega was free to roam when the alpha was home which Dean didn't know if it was so much better overall considering the sore looking bitten off nails and the large patches of deep purple bruising on his ribs, pelvis, thighs and arms. Underfed, the omega weighed little more than a big dog as Dean stood. The irony of that thought bubbled up in his chest in an hysteria fit he promptly squashed down.

The omega whined in fear.

After that he lost some awareness to the adrenaline coursing through his veins, there were doors, the sidewalk, he remembers running, laying the omega down on the vinyl backseat and slamming the door shut.

Next thing he knew he was speeding up the exit ramp and sliding the car into the late night highway traffic. He started shaking, barely able to keep his foot steady on the gas pedal and his hands safe on the steering wheel. He never thought for a moment about stopping the car to collect himself. The further he was from this hell hole, the better he'd feel.

Blinking away the stress tears from his eyes before they fully formed, he felt the dullness of reality sharpening up into focus again. Vision, hearing, both coming back to him in a rush. The sun hitting the windshield, the cars speeding by, the low purring of the Impala’s engine and most of all the shocked up whimpers in the backseat. _Shit_.

“I’m not going to hurt you. I’m sorry for being rough in how I handled the situation and raised my voice but I wanted us out of that place. I was panicking.”

A few high-pitched fearful noises answered him, a last drawn whimper and then it stopped. The heavy breathing didn't subside at all for a while but when even that settled down too as they were crossing state lines, Dean decided to count it as a win.

A very _very_ small win.

 

It was past three in the morning by the time they pulled into the paved driveway of his very average but homely bungalow in Lawrence, Kansas. Dean shut off the car, resting his forehead against the wheel. The omega shifted nervously in the backseat but kept silent. He was home, with a very beaten up, abused and scared omega in his car and not a fucking dog. In the eye of the law this wasn't a rescue, this was stolen property. Mated or not.

“Shit.” He whispered.

He needed to call Charlie.

As soon as the omega was taken care of.

He could do this.

God, _could he?_

Forcing himself to breathe, Dean pulled the keys from the ignition and stepped out, careful not to slam the door behind him this time. The omega shot him a dull glassy look as he opened the back door and gestured with his chin for him to get out, untrusty of his voice.

If the omega was too weak to walk Dean would carry him inside but there would be no more touching than was strictly necessary.

There was a lull where the omega stayed put, unresponsive and Dean thought he would indeed need to carry him but then he was shooting up and out of the car ungracefully, blanket tightly wrapped around his body, eyes glued to the ground as he stood. Fearful smell spiking up full force again, thick like oil in his nose, Dean silenced his own nagging panic as he lead the way to the front door and inside, locking up behind them. Thank God it was night, less of a chance for the neighbors to have spotted the shell-shocked omega in his driveway.

In the kitchen, he pulled a chair and waved for him to sit. The man's breathing picked up in speed, shallow as he turned a pleading gaze on him.

“I’m not going to hurt you.” Dean repeated softly, his deep voice as gentle as he could make it. “I’m only going to cut those restraints off of you.”

Tears pricking at the corner of his pale blue eyes, the omega didn't utter a sound and sat down stiffly. Resigned and defeated it seemed, not trusting. Dean couldn't blame him.

He kneeled on the tiled floor in front of the omega and quickly set to work on his ankles with the pliers. They came off cleanly despite the tight fit and the rawness of the skin under the old rough metal. They fell to the floor with a _clank_ one by one. He did the wrists next, coaxing the omega's arms out of the blanket with reassuring half-words.

The omega didn't so much as flinch while Dean worked the pliers under the shackle around his neck. It must have been painful with the rash and the hard pliers digging into his skin but the omega stood frozen.

“I'm sorry. It will be over soon.”

It snapped off easily like the rest once the pliers were jammed in place and the omega gasped when what basically stood for a collar fell off on his knees then the floor —like he'd been holding his breath. Wide-eyed and breathing heavily, the omega squeezed his eyes shut when Dean kneeled again and drew the blanket off his laps, “I will be quick, I promise.”

There was a padlock, thank god for small mercies, he wouldn't need to force the pliers somewhere in there. Trying to ignore as best he could the fine tremors running through the omega's legs and the awful terror smell thickening to the consistency of molasses, Dean cut through the lock and worked the cage off with minimal touching involved. He felt the warning of a killer headache as he took sight of the sound and the plug, “Goddammit.”

He should have stopped the car sooner. _Fuck._

Rubbing the back of his wrist over his burning eyes, he held onto the base of the omega's genitals as he slowly tugged the sound out and onto the floor with the rest of the junk. Dean's guilt ramped up at the shocked out sob it earned him, “I'm sorry. The plug also needs out and then we're done.”

Pushing the omega's thigh up, the plug took some careful maneuvering to pull out, the skin red, raw and puffy but then Dean was wrapping him back up tightly in his blanket as the omega hiccuped and sobbed in a disconcerting stunned silence as he watched Dean dispose of everything in the bin under the sink and scrubbed his hands clean.

His mind was whirling out of his grip, what next, what next? Fuck, what had he gotten himself into? He needed to call Jo, she would know what to do. _Breathe_ , calm down. What would he want right now if he were in the omega’s position? What, what?

_Goddammit._

A shower it ended up being.

Leaving the omega to recover for a bit, he dug out old clothes of Sam’s in a closet hallway from when he was a lanky teenager, tall but not so buff yet. They would have to do, everything he owned would fall off the man currently sitting in his kitchen.

He took out towels too and set them on the bathroom vanity along with a prescription cortisone cream that was left over of his last outbreak of eczema.

Stepping back from the hallway into the omega’s view he gestured for him to come. Still shaking, he trailed behind Dean dragging his blanket into the bathroom with him, “Clean up, okay? I don’t have a bathtub but there’s soap and shampoo in the stall. And use this after,” He said, picking up the cream, “Use more than not enough, everywhere you need it.”

Nodding his own head awkwardly, Dean backed off into the hallway, not knowing what to do with his hands. This was the moment he was supposed to rape him, right? Clearly, from his shallow breathing and the stench coming from him, the omega thought so. When he didn’t move, staring like a deer caught in headlights, Dean jerked forward, pulling on the door, “It locks, here.” He twisted the doorknob and pulled it firmly closed from the other side.

 

“ _You did_ what _?"_

"Are you going to help me or not? I'm _freaking_ _out_. He's in the shower right now, I -I don't…"

" _Hey hey hey! Breathe, Dean. I will. Calm down._ ” The tiny voice of the beta on the end of the line pitched low, whispering quickly in the phone as he heard pacing and faint voices around her. It sounded like she was at the Roadhouse having a drink, “ _Mated or not?"_

"I don’t know, he reeks of fear, I can’t smell anything else on him."

" _What's his priority?"_

"Charlie, I don't— work—"

" _But you volunteer, what priority?_ ” She repeated more sternly. “ _On a scale from 0 to 10?"_

"Remember Hannah?”

There was a long silence on the line as Dean chewed on his bottom lip, listening to the sound of the piter-patter coming from the bathroom down the hallway.

“ _I’ll get in touch with Benny."_

"Benny?!"

" _You have a better idea maybe? He’s not..._ around _so it’ll take a few days.”_ A pause, then even in a even lower whisper, “ _Are you still taking your suppressants?"_

"Of course _I do_. What kind of fucking alpha do you think I am? I’m not going to maul him.” Dean hissed angrily into the phone. He’d been on them for years now, sure it took coercing at first from Sam, Charlie _and_ Benny, and he was very much against it like every knothead this side of the Canadian border these past fifty years but it was before the war, what was she even implying? That he was taking the pills from her to flush them down the toilet? He just fucking _saved_ the dude for fuck’s sake.

“ _So not my point, Dean. He might go into heat while he’s there and as you are it’s not gonna be dangerous for him but it’ll be very unpleasant for you. You’ll need something stronger than the stuff I’m smuggling you right now."_

"Then what are you waiting for?"

 _"Gotta go, Kevin’s calling me._ ”

She hung up on him and Dean sniffed moodily. _Fucking Charlie._ He was so going to noogie her next time she brought him his pills.

 

Small portions at first, food easy to digest, Jo thought him. God knows when the omega had been fed last —from the quick peeks he'd gleaned, the shadow of his ribs was visible under the skin— and last thing Dean needed was for him to be sick.

There was some of Ellen’s chicken and rice in a plastic container on the top shelf of the refrigerator. He heated it up in the microwave and fixed up a ham sandwich and some fries for himself. He was taking out the steaming rack out of the fryer and plating the food when light footsteps came into the kitchen. Refraining from turning around like a waiting predator ready to pounce, he finished and set up the table before acknowledging the omega.

Cowering by the door, sweatpants and sweater swallowing him up but looking warm, the omega’s arms were crossed protectively over his chest, head submissively bowed. Now that Dean was calmed down and the omega was clean, he didn’t look a day older than eighteen.

His nose picking up on the sudden anger in Dean’s scent, the omega’s breathing hitched. Dean sighed tiredly, “I’m not angry at you. Come on, let’s eat, okay?”

Taking a few hesitant steps forward, the omega stood by the chair and eyed the plate on the table warily. Dean watched him in silence, staring at his neck for clues on whether he’d applied the cream or not. The skin looked glossy which he took as a positive sign.

As he examined the food, the omega’s expression shifted to confused to torn and plain terrified. His gaze fell on the chair then the floor and slowly he sat down, his back to the leg of the table, drawing his knees to his chest.

Not even allowed to eat at the table, huh? Well, this was…

Dean felt like throwing up.

Picking the plate from the table, he handed it down.

One battle at a time. One battle at a time…

The omega seemed even more wary accepting it, thick fear coming from him as he crossed his legs in front of him instead, the plate between his thighs. Looking up briefly, his hands were shaking as he started picking at the chicken mournfully with his fork and push it out of the rice. He was thankful for the volunteer work and Jo’s training, he really was but right now he wished he didn’t know as much as he did about the abuse omegas around the United State were forced to endure these days.

No meat either. Okay.

Dean stopped staring and forced down his own food, appetite lost.

How backward of an asshole could someone be to…

He breathed in slowly then out. There were bananas in the pantry somewhere, another one of Ellen’s meddling grocery trip for him. If the omega wasn’t going to eat the chicken he could at least eat that.

As soon as his rice was cleaned, Dean got up and fetched him the whole bunch of them and handed it out, “Here.” The longing look in the omega’s eyes told him more than enough when after two he refused to eat more but downed a glass of water, nearly choking on it as well as a second one.

 

He wasn’t surprised when the omega refused to sleep on the bed in the guest bedroom either, and instead fearfully dragged the blankets to the ground and curled up on them like it was all some traps he was being put in front of by Dean. He didn’t fight it, not tonight, he rummaged through the closet by the bulky chest of drawers in the corner of the room for more blankets and tucked the omega in, blue eyes pleading and teary as he did so. Dean hoped he wouldn’t throw them off.

“This door locks too.” He said, as he twisted the doorknob and closed it behind him.

 

The next morning, Dean was up by eight, bleary eyes on his four hours of sleep and getting ready for work. Debating whether to wake up the omega for breakfast or not, he finally decided he couldn’t afford to skip meals and knocked on the guest bedroom’s door.

“Breakfast’s ready.”

Dean heard some shuffling and the door creaked open. Head bowed, small exhausted eyes half closed, the omega followed him meekly to the kitchen and sat on the floor again. Fear was still in scent, half asleep on his feet or not. This time, Dean tried orange juice, two cucumber-mayo sandwiches and a granola bar. The sad betrayed look on the omega’s face almost broke his heart when after five minutes of stubborn stillness, Dean cracked and finally barked at him, “I _know_ you’re hungry, so _eat_ or I swear I’ll-”

...cry, probably.

Sighing in resignation, the omega took a bite of the sandwich and braced himself for the hit he was certain was coming. When it didn’t, the omega’s hands started quivering but he kept on eating so Dean let him be and ate his cereals. He still felt like throwing up.

He was nibbling at the granola bar when Dean realized the omega was crying in silence. Fat tears leaking down his cheeks as he rubbed idly at his sore neck.

Putting down his spoon, Dean couldn’t help it, he gently ran down a hand through the omega’s hair a few times, tucking a longer strand behind his ear, “I’m not going to hurt you. I’m not going to… _(punish)_ hit you for eating, on the floor or at the table, or sleeping on the bed, or nothing at all. I’m not going to touch you. You’re free here.”

It only made him cry harder, forcibly silenced hiccuping preventing him from eating until he could calm down and finish his breakfast.

 

“I’m going to work, I’ll be back around six.” Dean said as he put his construction boots on. The omega didn’t give an outward signal of acknowledgment but his gaze was following around the movements of his feet so Dean kept on, “You can watch the TV or go back to bed, there’s books in the living room. Whatever— do whatever you want… hmm, just put more cream on you, okay?” He said pointing at his own neck. “If you’re hungry, you know where the food is, so— ...eat.”

Nodding awkwardly at himself, Dean smiled stiffly and tried to ignore the way the omega was biting at his lips, clearly agitated by Dean’s instructions, or lack thereof.

 

That evening Dean came back to the guest bedroom’s door having been left open. He could see the omega asleep on his blankets, still not on the bed. Not a sign of trust either, the open door, he was probably used to not be allowed privacy. Dean doubted he had eaten anything. But his back was killing him so he walked past toward the bathroom to wash away the grime and sweat of the day first, and fucking sawdust. It gets everywhere.

Benny wasn’t going to call him for a few days still, and while however long it would take for his special branch of rescue to be set in place, they were basically stuck here together and Dean’s only purpose while they were waiting was to get the omega to eat and care for himself. And talk. He still needed to get his name.

_Good luck, me._

God knew the omega was justified to be wary of him. He hadn’t always been this… tame.

That was one word for it.

Benny hadn’t been this nice back then, shoving those pills into his hands. _Take them you asshole or…_ It had still taken a few punches being thrown and the other alpha on his Dean's back pinning him to the floor and biting him into submission before he agreed to anything. He used to miss himself for the longest time, sticking to the pills for the sake of his beta little brother’s approval, _Sammy'_ s approval, before he _got_ it.

Now Dean didn’t like to think much about that man anymore.

But Sammy was gone and Dean didn’t volunteer as much as he used to, maybe that was why Charlie had thought he wasn’t on his suppressants anymore.

With all the good that says about who he used to be.

Was he all that different from that alpha who’d stuck his omega in a closet and put those bruises on him? The answer he was looking for was not in the mirror as he examined himself for grey hair and wrinkles. It was still early to be on the look-out but he wasn’t young anymore. He was vain, which was part of the reason why the pills had been so hard to swallow. Literally. That and his misplaced sense of masculinity Charlie had said. _That’s the problem with alphas, they all think the world revolves around their knot, it doesn’t. Take the pills Dean, and stop whining you wouldn’t have to if Sam wasn’t so ‘bitchy’._

It was hard enough those first few years that now that he was finally used to it, he took them every morning without a fuss, Sammy or not, and that was that.

 

Dean didn’t expect the omega to be sitting in the hallway waiting for him when he walked out fresh and dressed. The stench coming off of him was almost unbearable, and he was hunched in on himself, shoulders tensed. Still he sat by the door, out of some nonsense his alpha used to order of him. He was going soft, Dean thought as he brushed his fingers through the omega’s hair. Maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing.

The horrible scent ebbed a notch and Dean thought that no, this really wasn’t such a bad thing at all, “Come on, up, let’s eat and watch some crap on TV.”

The omega stood and let take Dean a few steps down the hall before trailing after him, only to go sit by the foot of the table. He looked exhausted still, eyes half closed and his head laid on his drawn up knees, as small as he could make himself.

Dean wasn’t sure how much he’d actually slept since he'd found him and hoped this wasn’t an indication he wasn’t sleeping at all on top of everything else.

He made vegetable rice. Dean snorted, Ellen would be so happy.

It was another matter entirely to get the omega to it.

First of all, he jerked awake when Dean drew back his chair and scrambled a few inches, eyes wide and scared, clearly startled before settling when Dean put the plates down on the table but didn’t move further. Then he eyed his portion distrustfully when handed out to him, too generous Dean guessed. He ate half of it and refused to touch the rest.

Dean figured they could be two playing this game, and he could wait him out. Turned out, he couldn’t. Getting restless, dinner cleaned, dishes done, he sat down on the ground in front of the omega. “Please, eat it.” He tried, gesturing his chin down to the food on the omega’s knees, voice soft which only got him a fearful look and another waft of oil thick terror while the omega backed himself further against the leg of the table as if he could disappear in it.

Thinking it through, Dean scratched his neck, running a hand in his short brown hair on the way up, he rubbed his forehead before knitting his fingers on his lap. He sighed, green eyes averted somewhere to the omega’s left, “I don’t know what that alpha did to you… In fact no, I can make a pretty good guess but… I’m not— I don’t _want_ to be like him. I want you to be healthy, and happy. You need to eat, okay?”

_I’m scared out of my mind, please eat._

His throat aching from the emotion lodged in it, Dean met the omega’s gaze for a few seconds —blue, so blue— before the other man caught himself and jerked his head down.

This wasn’t working.

He took the plate from the omega’s hands and filled up the spoon before presenting it to his mouth like a difficult child. He was being insensitive and inconsiderable Charlie would say but goddammit he just wanted the damn omega to _eat._

The omega shrieked, almost hitting his head on the bottom of the table in his hurry to get his mouth away from the food and immediately started sobbing, whining and hiccuping uncontrollably like a fucking dam breaking. Hiding his face in both his hands, the omega’s legs were shaking and Dean felt guilty, so much so he almost stopped pushing instantaneously —Fuck, he was such an _asshole_ —  until a gravelly voice let out a desperate, “ _Hungry. Stop._ ”

The oomega _truly_ thought this was a trap, he realized. A cruel trick Dean was playing on him, torturing him with food he thought he couldn’t have. Swallowing down on the brick jammed in his throat, Dean grabbed onto one of the omega’s hands and pulled it away from his face a tad more harshly than he meant to, “ ** _Hey._** ” The omega jumped. “ _Enough._ I said you could eat it. **_Open up._** ”

Waving the spoon, holding onto the man’s wrist more gently now, Dean watched with a sinking feeling as the omega obeyed him, face stricken and snot dirty and chewed quickly on the food like it would vanish if he didn’t. What else could he have had done? Had there been another option? Jo would have found it, that’s for damn sure. She was intuitive, and nice. She wouldn’t have used such a borderline abusive tactic on the omega to get him to eat.

Dean kept on feeding him until the plate was cleared and then let his wrist go.

He got up, placed the dishes in the sink and grabbed a clean rag from the drawer, crouching to wipe the mess off the omega’s face. He didn’t fight it, merely closed his eyes.

Dean gently scratched his scalp once he was done since it worked to soothe him before. His tired blue eyes a hint too glassy for Dean’s liking, the omega leaned into it briefly before shaking his head in denial, cowering from the gentle hand in his hair under his own arms. Fear still very much present in his scent but steadily going down the more he kept at it, Dean could finally smell under it the cloying sadness and desperation the omega was feeling.

Very mated too.

Sitting back down on the kitchen floor, he dropped the rag on his lap and massaged the omega’s scalp for a while, brushing his temples reassuringly, using both his hands until the repetitive motion helped release some of the tension in the omega’s stiff form, and soothe his own breaking heart.

 

Half dead on his feet with exhaustion, the omega followed him docily to the guest bedroom where Dean tucked him in on the floor, him and his sad resigned blue eyes as he pushed a pillow under his head and made sure to cover his socked feet with the blankets.

One battle at a time.

 

“ _I mean, it wasn’t good Dean, using your voice on him but you’re a good man, alright, you wanted him to eat, it was a highly questionable way to achieve that goal but your intentions were good, just don’t do it again."_

"I won’t."

" _So, how’re you dealing? Charlie didn’t tell me much."_

"I… I panic and make him cry, a _nd_ … I’m not good at this, Jo. He would be better off with you."

" _That bad, huh? ...Do you wanna know how I do it?"_

"How?"

" _One day he’ll be happy and you’ll look back and realize how far he’s gotten. You gotta hang on to that. What you can do to make this easier for him along the way. But you can't make it painless, Dean. Recovery is not easy. And food is a sensitive subject. Do you know how many poor omegas_ I _made cry trying to feed them?"_

"You really think… he could be happy? After all that’s happened to him?"

_"I do. Don’t get me wrong, he won’t forget but yes I do think he can be happy. ...I’ll keep checking in. You’re fine, Dean.”_

 

He fell asleep on the couch, and woke up to the insistent beeping of the alarm clock on his phone, beating down on his head from the carpet to get up and go to work. He fixed up two tomato-lettuce sandwiches for the omega, and cereals again for himself.

As he was about to call him out to eat though, the omega strolled in slowly through the kitchen door, stood still as he eyed resentfully the second plate on the table and came to sit on the floor, accepting the food without argument.

It took him a few minutes getting started but then he didn’t stop, fear still high in the room as he gulped down the orange juice and hung his head over his plate, rocking back and forth, trying to soothe himself as he ate. Rubbing his nose in discomfort Dean couldn’t stand it, fully realizing now how much that oily omega fear was making him on edge, anxious and itchy for a way to _fix_ it. His spoon hit the bowl with a high-pitched _clank_ when he dropped it to block out his nose in the crook of his own shoulder.

He couldn’t keep running his hands into the omega’s hair like he was petting a fucking dog goddammit —and wasn’t he supposed to refrain from touching him?— so what could he do? Think, _think._ Smelling his agitation, the omega swallowed down heavily on his bite and put down the rest of his sandwich back on the plate, setting it down on his knees.

_You can talk to him for starter._

“Still not angry at you.” He said gruffly to his own t-shirt. “The smell is just… I don’t know what would help you relax. I’m pretty sure you don’t want me pawing at you, food clearly is stressing you out, and I know I’m not the most personable guy in the world. Not much conversation, not very touchy-feely either… but I want you to know you’re safe here, alright?”

Turning around to face the omega, those blue eyes were looking up at him, drinking him in, expression torn between strong disbelief and abject hope. He didn’t avert his gaze this time, and Dean felt like this was some sort of test as they stared off for half a minute. Such a nice color too, this blue, color of the sky as summer transitioned into autumn —cerulean blue. Blinking nervously, the omega kept on and Dean was the first one to turn away, going back to his spoon and his cereals. It only struck him that the face-off had been intended as defiant when the thick oily scent in the room suddenly plummeted, leaving him dizzy. He sneezed.

In the periphery of his field of vision, he saw the omega turned back to his food, take the second half of his sandwich and bite into it, toes curling and uncurling in his socks as he chewed.

 

Setting out clean clothes and cortisone cream out for him in the bathroom, Dean once again locked the door behind himself as he left the omega to his shower, “See you tonight.” and went to work.

 

He almost nailed his index to the drywall overthinking his actions and what he could be doing better, and was more than happy to take his break when Cain shot him a questioning glance and sent him off.

 

Meat went as well as one could have expected.

As soon as Dean sat himself down on the floor that night with the plate of chicken and mashed potatoes on his lap, the omega, in yet another sweater too big for him, started shaking his head in refusal, dulled fear spiking up and _up_ , promptly giving Dean a stress headache.

Picking up a piece of chicken on the fork, dipped in the potatoes, he offered it to the omega’s tightly closed lips, “Come on, you’ll feel better once you’ve eaten and then you can go back to bed if you want.”

Slipping between the foot of the table and the chair, the omega scooted back a few inches under the heavy piece of wooden furniture and then a few inches more when Dean stubbornly grabbed onto his ankle and pulled him back, “Dude, you are eating this damn chicken. I don’t care what fucking nonsense your alpha told you, it’s all bullshit, come here and eat.”

Trying to free his ankle, the omega started moaning, and then louder, “No, _no_! Good omegas don’t eat meat. Good omegas _don’t_ —"

"Good alphas don’t starve their mate and chain them to the floor!” Dean snapped back.

Dropping the fork on the plate, Dean grabbed the omega’s knees, pulled him from under the table and sat on his legs, effectively trapping him in place. Hiccuping, the omega keened loudly when Dean reached for him, and softly started massaging his scalp because no-touching policy sure, but goddammit he didn’t know what else to do.

Keeping up with the head scratching, he picked the fork again and waved it near the omega’s lips. Hiding his face in Dean’s palm, his gravelly voice sounded more like pleading now than brutal conviction when he said, “Good omegas don’t eat meat."

"Good alphas make their omega happy.” Dean countered. “ _Healthy._  You need the meat.”

Tears escaped from the omega's fatigued beautiful blue eyes as Dean finally managed to coax him out of hiding and got his mouth to close around the fork. Wiping the tears he could reach with his thumb, he kept on caressing the omega’s cheekbone and jaw as he chewed.

He pressed on with another forkful, and another.

Tears kept coming but gratitude perked up in the omega’s scent, heavier and heavier as Dean steadily kept on feeding him, his chest achy, filled to bursting with toothy butterflies trying to eat their way out at the ruffling of trembling hands fisting themselves in his t-shirt at his waistband and holding on for dear life.

 

Dean washed the snot off the man's face, ate his own share of dinner with a very mollified omega unwilling to move from the floor next to him even when Dean stated he could, then settled in front of the TV and some rerun of Dr. Sexy, MD with a beer. The tiny version of Ellen living inside his head made stern eyes at him and he grumbled to himself. _Drinking problem, my ass._ In any case, he was better than he used to be —Ellen and her damn mothering— and with all the alpha bullshit he'd had to shovel in the past 48 hours, he deserved it anyway.

The omega shifted uncomfortably on his feet in the doorway for a while before sitting down at his feet on the carpet. Dean let him stew in his discomfort, working out the decision for himself, not out of some that insensitive nerve he's got a big case of but because he was very much unwilling to tell the omega what to do, be it something as small as watch the TV with him.

“You can sit on the couch, you know.”

He got no answer.

Was it weird that he'd spoon-fed the guy twice now, put him to bed and hadn't gotten his name yet? Which, now that he thought about it, did not account for the very naked first encounter and forced genital handling. Benny was going to need a full name too, “I'm Dean Winchester by the way. What's your name?”

The omega rubbed his neck self-consciously, pinching softly at where his collar used to be. No doubt thinking about the alpha who'd put it there. Something about his name? Or maybe he missed him. Did he resent Dean for taking him away? Bone-deep resignation overpowered the oily fear scent still coming off of the omega in smaller doses now. He dropped his hand and sighed, “Castiel Novak."

"Well, nice to meet you, Cas.”

For a while, there was only sadness to answer him and the background noise of the TV playing out dialogues he knew words for words. What if he was wrong and Castiel didn't want this? Wasn't that the direct opposite of freedom than to force someone to be free?

Dean was staring, lost in the dark untrimmed hair curling around the nape of his neck, the fair complexion of Cas's skin under the rawness and the bruises. The omega smelled mated but Dean hadn't seen a mating bite in the short glimpses he's had. Was it faded?

He'd been soft to the touch, all sharp edges that could be helped with good food and care.

“Are you going to claim me?”

Dean frowned, guiltily focusing his gaze on the TV, “No. I said I wasn't going to touch you and I meant it.” He wasn't certain what the omega smelled on him but it wasn't good. He needed to be more careful, not make him nervous going around giving off that kind of scent.

He sipped his beer, switched channels midway through the following episode of some boring cooking show and left it on cartoons.

 

It’s only later while he was tucking him and saw the sad wariness in his gaze than Dean realized Castiel had been waiting for him to change his mind.

He locked the door behind himself.

 

They were eating bacons and eggs the next morning with breakfast potatoes.

Castiel was seated on the floor, and all Dean could smell on him was gratitude, light and warm. There were tears on his face, and his toes kept curling and uncurling in his socks like this was some sort of religious experience.

Dean offered him a second helping once his plate was clean, wanting nothing more than for the omega to keep feeling and smelling so good. Tears turned to a sobbed, “Thank you.” as Castiel accepted the plate and wiped his snotty face on the handed rag.

 

“ _Crying can be healthy, Dean. It purges negative emotions. It might seem like he cries a lot right now but he was and probably is still under a lot of stress. I wouldn't be surprised if his Alpha used to hit him for crying too. Soon enough he'll feel better and won't cry as much."_

"Makes me uncomfortable. ...Like there's something I'm supposed to be doing but isn't."

" _You're doing fine. More than fine. You said he smelled better."_

"Hmm. ...If you think so."

_"I talked to Charlie by the way, she'll drive by your place tomorrow for, you know, and huh, Benny should call you at the very latest on Monday. ...Have you been eating mom's cooking?"_

_"_ Cas has."

_"I'll tell her you want more."_

"Not funny, you brat. _"_

 

This was ridiculous, Dean decided when Castiel got out of the shower the next morning wearing one of Sam's old t-shirt that could as well have been a short summer dress on him. He snickered, pulling his boots on by the entry mat, “Wow, it's even worse than I thought it'd be.” Castiel looked down on his attire, nose wrinkling in self-conscious shame, and twisted his hands nervously, gaze averted.

Dean sighed, “I didn't mean it like that. We’ll find you better clothes, don't worry about it, okay?”

Cas kept silent, worrying his hands anxiously.

But then again, the amount of talking he’d done in the past three days had Dean beat in the short and concise department so he didn’t take it as a negative sign.

 

Dean was a hard worker, punctual and friendly enough per the business standards, meaning he kept Michael occupied and out of Cain’s hair so it was easy to get his boss to grant him his afternoon off work for ‘family reasons’. Goodwill wasn’t open during the evenings.

“Here. Try this one.” Dean said, throwing one of his old leather jacket over the omega’s shoulders and quickly fitting it on the front. Castiel stood still throughout the process, uncertainty clear in his scent and Dean suspected it would only get worse when the omega realized he had no intention to choose the clothes for him. The jacket was too wide at the shoulders but overall nicer than the other two he’d tried, “Better.”

He let the omega zip it close as he rummaged through the same closet hallway he’d taken Sam’s teenage clothes out of for a pair of shoes. One of his own should do fine.

Castiel’s anxiety hit the roof the moment they crossed the threshold and he glued himself to Dean's side. One step closer into his personal space and the omega would be standing in his shoes, it was unnerving but Dean didn’t push his luck by speaking his mind about the neediness. Wide-eyed as if he couldn’t take everything in quick enough, the omega let himself be led to the Impala as he stared at the trees in the backyard, the planter boxes by the front door before looking up at the sky.

“Sun.” He whispered.

Right, God, when was the last time Cas went outside? He made a mental note to show him the patio and the bird feeders.

Opening the passenger door, Dean gestured for the omega to get in and settled his own self behind the wheel. After making sure the omega had put on his seat belt, he drove off and hoped for the best.

 

Getting Cas to choose his clothes went both better and worse than Dean had thought it would, “No."

"Cas, I'm telling you, I'm not picking them out for you. It's your clothes, your choice."

"No, _no. Please."_

"Hey, hey. Calm down.” Crowded in by a shaky Castiel in the men’s section, Dean gently patted his back in reassurance, ignoring to the best of his abilities the dirty glances the display was getting them. _...mated omega with the…  Look… What a whore._

Arms crossed protectively on his chest and half into Dean’s arms, the omega whined low under his breath, “ _Pretty._ …Make you _happy._ ”

Dean leaned down to catch Castiel’s gaze, “Why? So I'll fuck you instead of getting angry and more _fists_ on?” He whispered furiously and the pained grimacing look on the omega’s face was answer enough. Bargaining sex for safety and food. This was messed up on so many levels, Dean felt about ready to kill something.

He took a deep breath to calm himself —no use taking out his justified but currently useless anger on Cas. Dean reached up to scratch the hair behind the man’s ear, up, down, up down… Lost to it for a while until he felt Cas shiver against him, mollified.

“What would make me happy is for you to choose stuff _you_ like.” He said. “...God knows you deserve it.” The sudden and very unwanted emotion lodged in his throat made his voice crack on the last words and he cleared his throat awkwardly.

Castiel frowned in confusion, sweet tilt of his head making Dean licked his dry lips, a nervous tic of his impossible to control, “You don’t owe me a damn thing, Cas.” Self-conscious, Dean sniffed and gestured vaguely at the next aisle, “So, shirts, pants and a coat. I’ll go find the shoes, they’re in the back.”

He squeezed his way through the crowd, unwilling to acknowledge the new softness in the omega’s pale eyes. What must it be like feeling so grateful solely because you were treated decently? Dean didn’t feel like he deserved it.

 

Sweaters, t-shirts, sweatpants, most of them dark colored except for the very orange turtleneck and lilac knitted vest, also blue jeans, dark purple gloves and a trench coat. Dean didn't manage to hide the split-second disgust on his face at the quite frankly horrid turtleneck on top of Cas's basket. And was that a _kitty_ sweater?

It became apparent he'd been caught when bitter fear and burning disappointment abruptly clogged his nose and he sneezed twice, the full force of _upset_ omega hitting his senses. Shaking his head to realign his eyes into his sockets, he looked up to Castiel offering him the basket — _visibly_ upset too— which Dean pointedly refused to take, showing him a choice of shoes instead, “So these are your size. Grey, black or red?”

Unsure, Cas's arm fell back limply by his side. His suspicious gaze scanned over the shoes, returned to Dean's questioning eyebrows, the shoes. Dean waved his selection.

He counted it as a win when the omega chose the grey pair and didn't try to offer him the basket again, the surrounding atmosphere clearing up to a more breathable level.

 

They stopped at the local Walmart for underwears. Then Cas lulled by the sock display for five full minutes while Dean went to the personal hygiene section for a new toothbrush and deodorant. After being prompted twice, the omega chose brightly patterned socks, and that was that.

 

“Anything you feel like eating for a late lunch?” Dean asked hopefully, hunched in front of the refrigerator, the two handfuls of bags dumped on the kitchen table.

Blatantly ignoring him, Castiel opened up the silverware drawer for scissors and occupied himself cutting the tags off their purchases and piling them up on the back of the nearest chair. He spared extra attention to the turtleneck, rubbing the fabric between his thumb and forefinger before setting it down too.

“More chicken? How about a casserole? Soup maybe? I have pie in the freezer for desert.”

Dean knew he was pushing, yanking Cas’s chain by giving him a slew of options just to spark a reaction but the omega’s general unresponsiveness unless cornered was starting to drive him off the wall. There had to be something that would bust him out his shell. Everyone had preferences, tastes, desires. Or were Cas’s beaten down so deep they were virtually lost? Had the omega ever had any goals? Did he ever dreamed about going to college? Before the war, maybe it would have been possible… There _had_ to be something.

“What are your thoughts on pepperoni pizza?”

Castiel meticulously gathered up the trash, disposed of it in the bin under the sink, put away the scissors and hauled up the lot of clothes down the hall. Dean pursed his lips in annoyance when minutes later, after deciding on a rain check for the casserole and he was scrolling through his phone for the number to the Domingo across town, he heard the washing machine kicked to life. It became frustrating when the pizza arrived and Dean had to fetch Castiel in the bathroom only to find him sitting on the floor by the toilet sorting through the laundry that had been piling up on Dean’s bedroom floor for three weeks. Because _of goddamn course_ the omega would think it was his duty to do Dean’s fucking laundry now that he was up for more than two hours at a stretch.

At least this was solid proof he was sleeping and that the food was doing him some good.

“Pizza’s here."

"Not hungry.” Came the reply, quick through a tight jaw. That was a damn lie if Dean’s ever heard one, “If you won’t come out of your hidey-hole, I’m not above bringing the food to you."

 _"Not hungry._ ” Castiel spat, temper and impatience with a large portion of desperation starting to bubble through his carefully submissive front. Which was very different from the previous breakdowns he’d had so far. Like a rubber band that had been stretching under the fear, the anxiety, the tears —and in Dean's emotional blind spot— stretching and stretching…

It snapped when Dean came back with the pizza and stubbornly made himself comfortable against the dryer before opening the box.

Castiel _flung_ a pair of jeans at his face.

Dean slapped the pants off his head. They landed with a dull sound on the tiled floor and he shot the pants then the man a stupefied look. Not that he wasn’t hoping for the outburst —or pushing for it even, _anything_ was better than _nothing_ — but he hadn’t believed the omega would actually start _throwing_ stuff at him.

Castiel gestured at the room as a whole, to the turtleneck cradled in his lap, the pizza.

“ _Why_? You don’t _want_ me!"

"And would it make you feel better if I did?”

Breathing shallowly, the omega met his gaze head-on for a moment before losing his steam, folding in on himself drawing up his knees to his chest in a pitiful attempt to make himself smaller, fearful eyes averted. No, clearly that would not make him feel better.

“So, is this your plan now? Trying to piss me off so I drop the act you think I'm playing?"

"Liar…”

Hearing it from Castiel's own mouth stung because he _tried_. God, did he try to be different. He _wanted_ to be different, _good_. Knowing it wasn't anything _he'd_ done didn't make the painful feeling in his chest easier to pass. Repeated physical and mental abuse had made Castiel distrustful, devoid of self-preservation, and nobody deserved that. Sniffing, Dean pulled apart the pre-cut pepperoni pizza, the cheese stretching into long chewy strings as he lifted one slice to his mouth. It smelled heavenly and tasted even better.

“ _Hmm_ — just so we're clear, ‘s not an act.” He forced through his mouthful. “Now, do you want ‘izza or not?”

Arms wrapped around his legs, Castiel stared at the washing machine. It buzzed, emptying in a rush of water before starting the spin cycle. Dean leaned back his head against the drier, swinging his leg restlessly as he chewed on his pizza, waiting him out.

“Aren't you going to punish me?"

"For what?” Dean hissed, disgusted by the mere idea. “Mauling me with my own jeans? No offense but I think I'll survive."

"Bad omegas don't eat.”

Throwing down the half eaten crust back into the box in ill-contained revulsion and anger, Dean wiped his palm over his chin and mouth to get the stray spots of sauce that didn't go in and shoved the box off his laps.

“You're not _bad_ , Cas.”

Dean shook his head, grimacing, “Everything that has happened to you didn’t happen because you were bad. Bad things, bad people, happen to _good_ people. **_You’re good._** **_He was bad. All those damn alphas treating omegas like trash are bad. But you’re good, man,_** never forget that.”

At lost for what to do, he grabbed the discarded pizza box and offered it over. Castiel snorted wetly and hissed. _Liar._  Dean pressed his lips in a thin line, and his hand flagged. Why was he so disappointed this wasn't working? _Hurt._  He'd been thrown in the deep end of the pool without knowing how to swim and he thought he could work it out, Jo certainly believed he could, but now he just felt like a failure, couldn't even get the omega to enjoy fucking pizza, how pathetic was it? Stomach twisting into burning knots, he placed down the food on the tiled floor and left the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

He wasn't hungry anymore anyway.

 

He sat outside for a while, reclined in one the chaise lounge on the patio. Eyes closed, just basking in the cool October sun in his leather jacket and slippers. Listening to the leaves in the trees, crackling and falling. The feisty birds chirping at the feeders and fighting over food.

What would he look like in a few days if he was already involved enough in this mess for it to throw him for a loop? He was morose, sad… What kind of world did he live in? _God_ , a sick world, that was what. It used to be better, that's what Sammy once said. Read it in the prohibited history books he'd stolen from the local library, smart as he was. Dean hadn't been ready to listen at the time, forcing Sam to give up on him. Would his baby brother be proud of him if he saw him now? Off the bottle, willfully taking his suppressants, working himself into the ground to help fund Jo's omega home, and Castiel… Where was the grip in the American machine? What had gone wrong? Not that it mattered, shit hit the fan and now someone had to clean up the mess. People like Jo, Charlie and Benny.

No one ever said this was going to be easy.

Dean heard the discreet sound of a body sliding down the length of the glass door and settle on the shoe mat in the living room. He didn't need to look to know it was Castiel.

It tugged painfully at his heart as he kept his eyes closed. He couldn't help someone that didn't want to be helped. That was the very first thing Jo taught every new recruits. Did Cas want help? Maybe, maybe not. But it wasn't a matter of desire, it was a matter of trust. The omega didn't trust him. There was a damn reason Benny had stopped handling the food court at Jo's and chosen to be out on the field instead. _I couldn't take the way they were looking at me. Made me feel guilty about stuff I'd never do you know, and it wasn't healthy._

Dean thought he finally understood what the other alpha had meant by that. He wasn't the one forcing the omega to sit on the dirty floor by that damn bay window but Cas did it because Dean was the alpha and this was putting on him a responsibility and guilt that belonged to that fuckhead back in Missouri. Nothing about the current situation was fair to either of them.

It would be best when Charlie came over in the morning to send Cas off with her to Jo's. He might be short-sighted at times… thick headed and rough around the edges but Dean knew when to admit he wasn't doing any good and pass on a job to someone that could do better than him.

This was one of those times.

 

The pizza box had been put on the kitchen counter, untouched.

He heated up half of it in the microwave Cas passively staying put on the mat when Dean walked in from the patio, heads in his arms and on his knees. Didn't move either when Dean sat down next to him, slices piled on a plate situated on his lap and their elbows almost close enough to touch. He didn't offer Cas any, munching slowly on his own. Couldn't bear to be told no once more. A last meal without a fight, the proximity of a warm body... was it selfish to ask for? The silence dragged on for a while.

Then, “I make you angry… Sad.”

Dean shot a brief glance to the side toward Cas before going back to his pizza. He didn't have an answer to that. Didn't know what Cas wanted _(needed)_ to hear. The omega was right and he wasn't about to lie either, tell him he was fine because he wasn't. He stripped off an oversized piece of onion from his slice and set it aside on the plate.

“I don't understand what you want from me. How to be good for you and it scares me.”

The whispered words were clearing up, half worded phrases expending without such an intense burden of stress and fear on the omega's shoulders.

Castiel smelled upset, “ _Please,_ alpha, how can I be good?”

Forcing his bite down through the tightening of his throat, tears threatening, Dean leaned into Cas's prone form, forehead pressed to the meat of his shoulder as he swallowed around the itchiness in his nose and the burning in his eyes. It took him by surprise, almost worse than overtly expressing his growing distress, the purring sparking low in his larynx. A discrete hum picking up in volume, steady and comforting.

He used to purr for Sam, ages ago, when they would share a bed at Bobby's after one of the kid's nightmare and he got upset over the fire, mom and dad dying. He would hold him against his chest until Sammy calmed down and went back to sleep. But then Sam became an opinionated teenager, he fell out of his hero worship complex for his less than perfect big brother, and Dean forgot how to. Or at least, he'd thought so.

“I’m not a child."

"I know.” Dean nuzzled into Cas’s shoulder, sweet omega scent filling his nose, his overworked brain, and soothing him. Honey dew, wet soil, _spring_. Happy, he wanted Cas happy. He smelled so upset… Dean purred louder, “I feel the need to protect you."

"If I'm not a child then what _am_ I?

Dean frowned, “I don’t know, Cas. What do you want to be?” He could feel the omega’s uneven breathing against his ribs, his scent turning a hint oily and Dean gently rubbed Castiel’s bicep once, twice reassuringly before putting his hand back in his laps. “I don’t have all the answers, Cas. I don’t know. I got you out of that place because I had to. It was… horrible to see, man.” He paused and when Castiel didn’t show any indication he was going to reply to any of that, he kept going, “I feed you, keep you warm and safe because it’s the right thing to do. How it’s supposed to be. But that’s it, really.”

His purring naturally picked up into a deep rumbling as he stopped talking.

Eyes closed, he breathed into Castiel's sweater, oiliness turning sour. The omega hiccuped softly into the crook of his elbow, turned away from him and Dean reached around his back up to scratch at the nape of his neck, “It's okay, Cas, cry all you want, 'm not going anywhere.”

A sharp sob burst out of the omega's throat, a desperate gasp for air followed by a cross between a whimper and a snarl. Castiel turned on him, scrambling hands pushing and shoving him onto the floor, forcing his body over his. The plate clattered to the floor, squidding under the coffee table and landing upside-down. There was a flash of fangs. They nipped at his jugular and Dean flinched, circling his arms around Cas's waist to jerk them onto their side on the cold living room's wooden floor. The omega hissed and growled, smacked him on the sternum. Readjusting his grip higher, Dean held on tight, crushing the squirming body to his chest until he could feel his own insistent purring reverberate through Cas's ribcage and the omega went completely limp like a broken puppet with cut strings.

Heart beating fast, Dean leaned his cheek onto Cas's temple, focusing on the omega's conflicted scent and listening at the deep inhales and exhales warming his collarbone. In, out, in, out… He was being scented which was fair enough since he'd just done the same but also unnerving. Who knew what kind of emotions he was broadcasting right now. So much for an uneventful meal.

One of Castiel's foot was halfway between his ankles. Dean sighed. What had that fight even accomplished except for this awkward display of tangled limbs? The more he tried pushing Cas onto his own path, the more the omega tried to— he wasn't sure what Cas was trying to do here exactly but he needed Dean out of the picture, that was for damn sure.

His purring stuttered, “Cas, I was thinking… Tomorrow morning, a beta friend of mine is gonna come by, Charlie. She could drive you to this omega house in Topeka. You'd be safe. New start and all that. And you wouldn't have to deal with… the alpha bullshit I got going on that keeps stressing you out."

"No."

"Cas—"

_"No."_

"Okay, okay. Calm down.” Dean soothed, rubbing Cas's back in a low up and down motion. He'd thought that the omega would jump on the opportunity to get away from him but clearly not. The unknown factor maybe, the uncertainty. From Cas's perspective, Dean could as well be sending him off to worse of a situation for all he knew. He didn't push it, for now. Let the omega breathe into him as he kept on purring.

 

Dean gave up on eating the pizza.

He brushed the hair off the omega's sleepy face and reassured he was fine for the time being, he cleaned up the splatters of crust, and sauce and cheese under the coffee table while Cas sat by the couch. He fixed up chicken soup with real chicken, tomato juice and the green vegetables populating his refrigerator like uninvited guests. In the soup the bell pepper and the snow peas would take on a taste of meat instead of bitter dirt and there was no way Dean was going to eat them otherwise. He turned on the TV on some random boring talk show, switched to Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives, grabbed a beer for himself, water for Cas, and put them plus the two bowls down on the coffee table before squeezing himself on the floor next to Cas to eat.

The soup wasn’t half bad admittedly, and Dean tried (and failed) not to stare out of the corner of his eyes until the omega leaned forward to sip at his share. His thighs trembled throughout the whole meal and Dean realized idly with the heavy spike of gratitude in the air that it was a physical reaction to the food itself, result of having been starved for so long and not fear. Not anymore anyway. He wondered if Castiel would one day be able to simply enjoy food.

 

He dozed off. He dreamed of Sam, _Sammy_ curled up tight against him in the backseat of Bobby’s truck on his first day of high school and smelling part hopeful, part dreadful. Sammy…

A timid hand on his shoulder woke him up.

“Alpha, you shouldn’t sleep sitting up.”

Dean blinked his eyes open on the splitting stress headache beating away at his temples he sometimes got when he accidently fell asleep and naped for an hour or two. Hovering by his right shoulder, Cas was gently trying to coax him up against the seat of the couch into a less painful position for his back. Dean felt like hot shit. Even his mouth tasted disgusting.

“Alpha?"

"Don’t call me that, come on.” He mumbled. It was dark out and shadowed blue eyes looked down on him worryingly. Cas didn’t gratify him with a reply. He looked tired too, these big circles under his eyes sign of all the exhaustion accumulated over the years. His skin had taken on an healthier glow, less pale and dull. Physically he’d recover and it didn’t make Dean feel better to know that Cas’s condition when he found him could have been ten times worse. No fun in fucking a corpse, he guessed. The thought made his stomach curled in disgust.

He reached up and brushed the omega’s jaw with his thumb.

“Let’s go to bed, huh?”

Castiel nodded and stood to help him to his feet. Dean's bad knee popped, so did his hip and two or three different places up his spine.

God, never again. Everything was killing him. He was _old_.

A few steps back behind him, the omega followed diligently down the hallway and very obviously hesitated in front of Dean’s door. He shifted, pawing at his sweater unsure what to do. Still dealing with the pounding between his ears, Dean watched him throw undecisive glances toward his own room, brain working overtime but unable to add two and two together. Cas hunched on himself before seemingly coming to a decision, breathing in sharply and straightening. He turned a fleeting gaze on Dean as he walked up into his space, stretched his neck and rubbed his smooth cheek on Dean’s rough stubble, marking him. A stinging warmth bloomed in Dean's groin, molten and enticing.

He grabbed Cas by the shoulders and firmly walked him back into the hallway, “I’m not having sex with you, Cas."

"You said… go to bed.”

Dean scratched the soft hair behind the omega’s ear, determined not to get angry, “In your own room.” He patted him once and stepped back, doorknob in hand. “Sleep tight, okay?... ’m not tucking you in, wouldn’t be smart.” He huffed a short humorless laugh, smiling stiffly.

He locked his door just in case. No need to play with the devil.

 

“Breakfast’s ready, come out.”

"No.” Banging his head softly on the locked door of the guest bedroom, Dean sighed. “Cas, you need to eat. I’m sick of this.” Groaning, he made a beeline for the kitchen, picked up the omega’s plate from the table and brought it back into the hallway. “Dude, I don’t care if you won’t come out, you’re eating. Open up.” Surprisingly, there was a immediate click and the door swung open. Castiel took the food out of his extended hand, pointedly stuffed his face with the cut-up pieces of banana on the plate and closed the door back in his face as he chewed before locking it.

“Okay, then. Bon appétit.” He sassed at the empty hallway.

 

He berated himself when half an hour later Charlie showed up in his kitchen like she owned the place, half scaring him out of his skin, and enlightened in bright red marker in his mind the reason the omega was holed up in the guest bedroom and still currently refusing to come out.

He’d honestly thought this was dealt with. Cas had said he didn’t want to leave with the beta and for Dean that had been it. Sure, he intended to bring up the subject again eventually, but not for the next week at least. Clearly the omega feared Dean was going to just overlook his opinion on the matter and kick him out.

“So, I got you the good stuff.” Charlie smirked at his startle glare and dumped the small plastic bag in her hand next to his empty cereal bowl. She took a seat, “Where’s your new roommate?"

"Still in bed.”

She hummed, “Jo told me you two had some… issues."

"It could be worse I guess. He only cried once yesterday… and threw dirty clothes at me.” Dean purposefully let out the fact that Cas had tried to bite him. “He’s eating, looks better, smell better.” He stressed, suddenly nervous Charlie was going to see this train wreck for what it really was and try to take him away against Cas's will.

Charlie nodded, glancing toward where she knew the bedrooms to be, “Jo thinks you’re doing a good job. It smells… _stuffy_ in here but otherwise… Nothing fresh.” Charlie angled her stare on him. “Look, I’ll be blunt with you. I’m uncomfortable with the idea of him staying here.” Dean gritted his teeth, carefully keeping his tone neutral as he inquired, “Do you really have that low of an opinion of me?"

"I know you won’t hurt him. It’s still not my point, Dean. It’s just that… it can’t be good for him to just _change_ alpha, and don’t look at me like that, you know what I mean.”

He did. In all honesty, it was fair concern. Castiel was calling him ‘alpha’ already, offering himself up for sex… Charlie was right, and this was also why he’d told the omega about Jo’s house. They were on a slippery slide but he wasn’t about to force Cas to go when he didn’t want to. Dean couldn’t tell Charlie that Castiel wanted to stay though, it would only prove her right when the dude was probably more stressed about the unknown than actively wanting Dean around.

Cas being allowed to say _no_ was the whole point of this damn operation. It might not be Charlie’s definition of freedom but if the omega didn’t want to go, he wasn’t going anywhere.

Dean couldn’t even make it sound as if Cas staying was Jo’s decision either. She was running a house not one of those omega pensions mandated by the state, legally she didn’t have the power to do anything and it just wasn’t in her character anyway.

In fact for as long as Cas’s alpha didn’t show up at his doorstep and tried to drag Dean in front of the court for theft, the omega was technically _his,_  mated or not. If he said Cas stayed here, which would be highly problematic in its own right, neither Charlie or Jo could do shit since they were both betas.

Benny could though.

Thoughts circling, he dug up the pills from the bag to examine the bottles, there were no labels of course. Charlie sniffed, not fooled one second by his prolonged silence. “If things get out of hands I’ll call Jo, okay? Now you’re gonna tell me about these or not?” One of the bottles was filled with the usual blue suppressants he took daily, the other one had a handful of white pills in it. Charlie shot him a long considering look before gesturing at Dean’s hands and the bottles, “You keep taking the usual stuff and when it’s time you take the other ones too. Two pills in the morning instead of one, that’s it."

"Both at the same time? Isn’t it dangerous?"

"The white ones are different, they’re for your nose. Dull things down a bit. Across the border it’s also prescribed to medical staff: doctors, nurses, etcetera, to dampen the pool of negative emotions they work in on a daily basis.”

The suppressants are hormonal, the white pills aren’t, Dean summarized. He hummed his comprehension before standing and walking Charlie back to the front door, “Thanks but I gotta be at work in twenty so…” She smiled before squeezing him into a brief hug. Dean groaned in fake exasperation before patting her on the back, “Yeah, okay."

"Just wanted to make sure you had those as soon as possible."

"I know.” She let him go and stepped outside, “Take care of him, alright?"

"I will. And learn to knock, I didn’t give you that key so you could give me a damn heart attack.”

Charlie snickered and waved him off.

 

“Cas, open up. We need to talk.”

He cringed at the tone of his own voice but he hadn’t lied, at this rate he was going to be late for work, he just couldn’t leave without having this conversation first. There were steps on the other side, fiddling at the door and then it opened all the way, hitting the opposite wall softly. Castiel was avoiding his gaze, not bowing his head but close. Looking small and dejected.

“I’ll eat, I'll be good, please don’t send me away.”

This was exactly what he’d feared, worse even, “Cas, this is not a punishment to get you to eat. I want you to eat sure but because you _need_ to to fucking _survive_ , not because I'm telling you to.” The omega rubbed a shaky hand on his temple, immediately getting agitated by Dean’s concerned irritation, “I will but please don’t send me away.” He whispered.

Dean scratched restlessly at his stubble, “You don’t want to go so I’m not going to make you, Cas but _this_ is exactly why you should go. Jo’s place only houses betas and omegas, and you need an environment where you will feel safe, where you won’t be scared every step of the way wondering how to please the alpha. You could have your own life, your own decisions, free of this shit.” Watery eyes looked back at him, frowning Castiel shook his head, “No."

"Cas, I-I’m not good at—"

"I said no!”

Dean raised both his hands in a placating way and the omega stepped up to him, reaching both his thin sinewy arms around his chest and crowding him in a tight hug. He felt steady against Dean, warm and unmovable. Like there didn’t exist anything in the world strong enough to force him to change his mind, and Dean closed his eyes, comforted in spite of him.

He placed an arm around Castiel’s shoulders and held on, “I just want what’s best for you.” Dean rubbed down the omega’s spine and Cas stepped closer, melting into him from hip to collarbone, “I want to stay."

"Okay.” He’d never scented anything as sweet as the grateful relief and contentment that filled his nose at his agreement, sending him afloat on a cloud of endorphins. Cocooning him in the warmth of Cas’s presence. Mindlessly, he pecked the omega’s temple, “Gotta go to work now. Stop worrying for a while. Do both of us a favor.” He cupped the omega’s jaw, coaxing him back and smiled. It sent guilty thrills up his spine when Cas shyly smiled back.

 

It was friday, tomorrow was their day off, so Dean wasn’t surprised when Michael nudged him as they left and gestured his chin toward the parking lot. They sat out in his old Dodge, their usual weekly beer in hand, and if the company wasn’t excellent at least the alcohol was acceptable.

“So, did you find him?"

"Apartment was empty. Everything was left behind."

"Shit…”

Michael pressed his closed fist to his mouth and leaned his elbow on the window sill. His gaze roamed as he processed Dean’s news. How rough it was for him to hear, Dean wasn’t sure. Whether it was sadness and concern or merely anger to find himself in a dead end. Michael wasn’t the most progressist alpha in best of circumstances so when it came to his omega little brother… “The neighbors said the house’s been empty for a week.” He supplies, calmly sipping at his beer. He sniffed and drew down the sunvisor to pick at the stray eyelash itching in his left eye. It stuck to his thumb and Dean closed back the panel over the small mirror, leaving the visor open against the setting evening sun.

It was the day Dean was in Missouri and brought Cas back. He’d been looking for Gabriel Milton, Michael’s second youngest brother. He’d heard about the guy from Benny three weeks prior : twenty-one, small, hyperactive and covering his misery under layers and layers of bad jokes. Shaken, Benny had needed to talk about him. _Bad family. He’s always smiling, you know…_ Michael was fairly new on Cain’s team and on the job you don’t always know everyone’s full name so Dean hadn’t known until Michael gave him a last name that his Gabriel was the same Gabriel.

The guy had stopped answering Michael’s phone calls — _the ungrateful little shit bothered me for months for his own place, kept at it even after I clocked him once or twice, do I look like I can afford his damn caprices?_ — so the alpha had asked Dean to do the dirty job for him and bring him _home_ so his brother didn’t spot him and ran.

Dean had accepted to make sure Gabriel was effectively gone. He was.

Dean never pointed out to Michael that the money problem would be moot if omegas were still allowed to work and earn their living. There were a lot of useful perks to his apparent narrow mindness : information mostly, “So what are you gonna do?”

Michael huffed, “Wait until he comes back crawling, pregnant and hungry, like they all do."

"Yeah, they sure do.”

It was easier that one would have expected, just sit there and listen, nod and give the right answers. Fake interest to get intel. It’s easy to lie to someone you don't respect.

Michael hissed and a short silence followed, “Brother-in-law called.”

Dean scratched at the dry itchy skin of his right shoulder over his jacket (doctor said all of his skin problems were due to his 60 hours workweeks; the fucking stress in other words, and to take it easy. Wasn’t gonna happen.) carefully indifferent as he waited for Michael to continue.

“Baby brother’s gone too."

"Really? That sucks."

"Some asshole pulverized the bedroom window and took off with him.”

Dean scratched at the stubble under his neck next, heart jumping uncomfortably in his chest. Cas had said _Novak_. It couldn’t be him, right? What would be the fucking odds of that, “Hope he’s gonna press charge, that’s low, man.” He threw a sympathetic frown Michael’s way but he wasn’t looking in his direction.

He was rubbing at his tight forehead, the hint of worry on his expression.

“Well, you know the cops, they took Alastair’s report but I mean, it’s just an omega. It’s not like the dude who stole him fucking left his number. They don’t really got a lead.” Dean tried to remember what he’d touched, if he might have left any fingerprints or DNA. He touched the rake and the closet door knob but protected his hands with his jacket when he hoped the window sill so probably nothing there. He wears generic work boots so footprints in the muddy backyard and inside could belong to anyone. No blood, he didn’t cut himself and very little chance they'd find any hair with his short cut. Alastair might have seen the damn Impala though. “Yeah.”

Dean downed the last inch of his beer, and hummed appreciatively, “Well, it could be worse I guess. Good beer anyway. Bought it at the Roadhouse, right?” Michael shot him an easy smirk and waved his own three-quarters empty bottle at him, “Right. Enough talking, get out of my car. Dinner’s waiting. Thanks anyway, sorry for the waste of time."

"Anytime, man. ‘s no problem.”

The passenger door fell back easily behind him and Dean strolled back to the Impala.

 

The paranoia got to him as he was walking down his driveway. He’d taken Cas to Goodwill, what if anyone had recognized him? He half expected the omega to have vanished into thin air by the time he unlocked the front door but Castiel was sitting in silence against the couch when Dean walked in, jacket and boots still on. The sheer relief he felt at the sight was difficult to describe.

Castiel looked up, a question in his blue eyes —his goddamn blue eye.

Frozen on the spot a few steps past the doorway, heart beating furiously in his throat, Dean cut right to the chase, “You know any Michael Milton?” Cas's curious open expression fell, there was no other word for it. His gaze swept over the room like he didn't recognize it and he blinked numbly a few times. A tear escaped down his cheek. Dean rushed over to him, sitting on the couch he pulled Cas up to him, close and tight against his chest.

“Hey, hey. I'm asking because I work with this guy who told me his brother-in-law called him. Someone broke in, smashed the bedroom window and left with the omega.” Castiel whimpered mournfully, “Noo… No, no. I don't want to go back, I don't want to…” Dean shushed him gently, “I’m not sending you back. I'm not. Alastair, isn't it? It's his name?”

Cas curled up closer against him, “Yes."

"Okay. Okay. Come on, breathe for me. You're not going back I promise.” What were his options? He could bring up Jo's omega house again but he sincerely doubt it would go down well. Cas was halfway into a panic attack already. Cas needed to be out of Lawrence which ruled out pretty much everyone he knew. Where else could he hide him? Bobby's place was like five hours away. He couldn't leave town to hide Cas in a motel room in the middle of nowhere, it would be traumatic enough for the omega to share a fucking room with him and be left alone all day without accounting for the possibility of Dean having to miss work which, right after talking to Michael, would be suspicious as hell if the cops followed the trail back to him. He needed to call Charlie.

“So you have a brother named Gabriel, right?” Castiel drew back to peer at him through frowned eyebrows, lips quivering but still in a more composed state than the first time he tried to get Cas to eat which was encouraging, “Is he okay?"

"I have this friend who… helps omegas like you cross the Canadian border. Gabriel's in Montreal right now, he's fine.” The teary emotional smile on Cas's face made Dean's heart flutter, “He is? He just disappeared one day and I t-thought…” Castiel's teeth chattered on the word before the omega could reign in the involuntary reaction, “Gabriel could be… difficult, about seeing me… and I thought Alpha…” Dean didn't need Cas to finish that thought to get it.

“No, he's fine. ...You could join him, you know.”

Castiel swallowed, and averted his eyes. Working out the mess the proposition had assuredly spawned in his head on his own. The atmosphere filled with sadness, anxiety, self-loathing, longing, so much longing...

The omega leaned back into Dean's shoulder, silent for the longest time and Dean let him. He didn't see any other option than staying put for now and wait for Benny's call anyway. If it came down to it he was ready to drive Cas to the border himself and wait for the alpha there. In the meantime if the omega needed cuddling, he'd get cuddling.

 

Cas fell asleep on him.

His long pretty eyelashes draping over the swell of his upper cheek. A faint hint of a facial hair on a sharp jaw. Full pink lips parted. Dry and chapped but so plush looking. Sweet smelling omega curled up on his shoulder.

Feeling distinctly warm and stuffy inside his own skin, Dean layed Cas down on the couch to start up on dinner, phone jammed against his ear while he filled a pot with water for the pasta. He was making homemade mac and cheese.

Charlie answered on the second try, “ _Dean, was is it? I'm at work._ ” If anything else the redhead couldn't blame him of steering around the pot because he simply blurted out, “The omega squatting at my house is Gabriel and Michael Milton's brother.”

Charlie and Benny both knew Dean worked with Michael ever since the whole Gabriel breakdown on Benny's part and Dean had said with all the finesse he knew a few days later on the phone, “Michael Milton's brother, right? That _knothead?_  Wow.” There was some shuffling as Charlie walked, voices growing fainter then the sound of a door closing. A toilet flushed, then the door closed again. She whispered, _“Are you sure?"_

"Yes, Castiel Novak. Alpha's name is Alastair. Does that ring a bell?"

" _Fuck, you mean Cassie? Gabe kept going on and on about him and how he felt like trash for leaving him behind with an alpha who…"_

"Kept him locked up in a bedroom closet?” Dean interjected when she didn't seem to find the words and the beta hissed, _“Shit. We tried to find him I swear._ ” Dean opened up the refrigerator and took out three different kinds of cheese before poking at the pasta with a fork. He set out the cutting board, fidgeting and pacing but listening carefully to Charlie's voice still, “ _It's the only way we got Gabriel to go, by promising to look for his baby brother and get him out too but all we had was a town. Alastair was distrustful of Gabriel, always paranoid he was trying to take him and run, which admittedly was true. They went to Gabe’s apartment once a month so, and I quote, so Gabe_ would stop grinding on Alastair's nerves so much _, never the opposite. Gabriel took quite a few beatings because of it. It might also explain you found Cas chained up in the bedroom closet… Fuck."_

"And let me guess, before that he harassed Michael until he let him get an apartment closer to Cas.” Charlie hummed her agreement. “What gave?"

" _Alastair threatened to kill him if he didn’t back off.”_

He shouldn't have been surprised that the damn asshole had driven off Cas's only decent family and completely isolated him. And for what? Dean forcefully sliced at the fresh brick of cheddar on the cutting board and tried focusing on the fact that both Gabriel and Castiel were safe now. He growled into the phone; accumulated anger, stress and confusion coming out in a drawn rumble just as footsteps timidly entered the kitchen.

How long did that make Cas’s nap? Fifteen minutes?

On the other end of the line, Charlie said, _“I know.”_

His face tingled sickly, all the blood in his head rushing to his ear. His jaw hurt. Dean forced himself to breathe slowly in then out. A hand tentatively touched his lower back and he growled again; upset and pissed off about a past he couldn’t change. And now he was going to frighten Cas, drive him away too, screw everything up like he did with Sammy.

The omega wrapped his arms around his waist from behind, unsure and hesitant.

_“Hang in there, okay? Benny should be back Sunday. Stay where you are, keep going to work. Lock all the doors and windows. Don’t let Cas leave the house.”_

Castiel slowly plastered himself to his back and then stayed there, smelling oily but also comforting. Like rain and grass. The omega rubbed his diaphragm soothingly, up, down, up down…, “Yeah. Yeah, okay. Thanks Charlie."

_"If anything happens, just take him and go."_

"Trust me, I will.”

Charlie excused herself after that and hung up. Dean put his phone down on the bench and rubbed his open palm on Cas’s still hand on his chest, “Sorry if I scared you."

"What’s wrong?” The omega asked softly against his spine. Dean didn’t believe in hiding the truth, no matter how hard to hear it could be. Cas had said it himself, he wasn’t a child, and Dean wasn’t a liar. He sighed, “You were right, sort of. Gabriel was trying to get you out of there and Alastair threatened to kill him. That’s why he ran.” Castiel’s hand stopped moving, fisting itself into his flannel shirt as the omega slowly rocked back and forth more trying to reassure himself than Dean at this point. “I never wanted him to risk his life for me… I don’t want you to risk your life for me. What if alpha finds me?"

"Cas, if that knothead dares show his face here I will kill him. I can promise you that.”

The omega’s grip on him tightened, “No.” Dean’s following stubborn silence quickly made it worse; Cas’s hands were all over him, turning and pinning him by the shoulders against the cabinets. Exhibiting his fangs threateningly, the omega nipped him on the bottom lip. Nose to nose, he growled, cerulean beauties half closed, “ _No._ No putting yourself in danger."

"Not your call to make.” Dean gritted, pushing down the heavy hot feeling the display of will had sparked in his guts. “I won’t let him him hurt you ever again. Besides, they won’t find us that easy. Michael said the cops got no lead."

"I’m not worth this.” The omega hissed.

“You are. You deserve to be happy.” Dean whispered with a hint of breathlessness in his voice. Castiel's nose flared, finally picking up the heated change in his scent, he was so close Dean saw his pupils dilate briefly.

Deflated, confused and uncomfortable, Cas took a step back and let go of his shoulders, his contrite gaze glued to the floor.

Dean snorted, smirking, “I give you an inch and you sure take a mile, don't you?"

"Sorry."

"Didn't say it was a bad thing.”

The omega’s eyes roamed to Dean then away, subdued. He didn’t reply. Unsure what to add on to yet another train wreck of a conversation, Dean turned his attention onto the boiling pastas and willed away his arousal but it lingered warmly. The pastas were cooked so he drained the pot into the sink before putting it back on the stove to melt the cheese. The omega shot him an apologetic look and moved out of his way, lips pinched.

Dean smiled and reached over to brush his fingers through Castiel’s hair and squeeze his shoulder. _You’re good._ The warmth in his guts coiled and uncoiled, the chubbing in his boxer stretching the zipper of his jeans. Dean stubbornly ignored it.

“Isn't it uncomfortable?” The omega whispered, voice so small and fragile it hurt to hear. The pressure of desire finally gave way a few notches. “What is?” Dean answers as he stirred the pastas, pointedly oblivious to the direction the omega was trying to steer them toward and Cas let it go, the drawn expression of his ocean blue eyes when Dean glanced at him said he was not fooled for one second.

 

They ate in silence, Dean's brain cataloging his different ways forward. Would Cas want to join his brother in Montreal? And what if he didn't? He stared blankly at the wall, lost in thoughts as Cas nibbled on his food curled up close, his head resting against Dean's thigh.

Cas nuzzled the fabric of his jeans. Brought back to the present, Dean could feel the omega's jaw working as he chewed; he set his fork down and swallowed, “Cas, you can sit in the chair. I don't expect you to be eating at my feet.” No answer. Only the warm weight of the omega's presence refusing to budge, soft soft comforting body against his own worming itself in Dean's chest, stubborn and wrong, and counterproductive in every way possible, “Cas, sit in the damn chair."

"Not your call to make.” The omega parroted softly back at him, the sound muffled on his thigh. Cas took another small bite. _That's…_ Dean's mouth gaped slightly in irritated amazement before he forced it close with a snap. He wasn't sure if the backtalk was an improvement or not. It felt like an improvement.

Dean smirked at the bland wall, “Whatever.”

 

Castiel didn't finish his plate, still curled up against Dean's leg, heavy gaze unfocused and absent when Dean inquired about it.

“My back hurts and I feel like throwing up.” The omega answered, voice disturbingly neutral at the admission. Dean scowled, “Did you catch something? ...Your back wouldn't hurt so much if you agreed to sleep on the bed.”

No reply. Dean reached down to brush his fingers through the omega's hair and reassuringly rub his neck. The skin was cold and clammy under his palm. He moved his hand around to check Cas's forehead for a fever. Nothing. Cas didn't react either way to the invasive pawing.

Rotating his hips on his seat, Dean nudged the omega up and to the living room. Face pale, Cas didn't speak up when Dean huddled him up in the throw blanket and directed him to sit on the couch. He sank into the cushions and didn't move further, gaze blank and searching, starring vaguely toward the unlit black screen of the TV.

Worried, Dean quickly stepped back into the kitchen to pile up the dirty dishes into the sink and wipe the surfaces. Done, he sat by the omega and racked his brain for a clue as to what to do. Watch TV and wait it out? Draw him closer against his chest and hope the omega finds the gesture comforting? Try to ask again? Dean couldn't smell sickness on him nor anything else useful for that matter expect for sharp discomfort. Had he made Castiel uncomfortable with his sudden bout of unwelcome arousal? But then why had he eaten at his feet, willingly seeking physical contact? The tensed silence dragged on.

His nose used to be better, Charlie said he was paranoid everytime he brought it up but he was firmly positive that by regulating his testosterone, the suppressants had also impaired his scenting capabilities. Subtle or conflicted emotions easily passed him by undetected, more so now than it used to. He was fairly certain this was one of those cases where he couldn't distinctly scent the whirlwind happening in Castiel's mind.

“What will happen to me… in Canada?”

Catching up to the omega's current train of thoughts made abruptly clear that his symptoms stemmed from what seemed to be sharp anxiety, “You'll see your brother again, maybe move in with him or have your own place. You'll be able to go to school or find a job. Meet someone that sees you as an equal.” He said, choosing his words carefully with obvious mixed results when Cas's blank expression suddenly broke and he teared up.

“Don't you?"

"Don't I what?"

"See me as an equal."

"Well, yeah…” Dean said, uncertain but wary of what he was being asked. The omega met his gaze dead on, considering as seconds passed, his wet eyes hardening when he seemingly came to a decision. He sniffed, “I want to stay here, with you.”

An heavy painful feeling settled on Dean's heart.

“Cas—"

"I’ll clean and cook while you're at work. I can't read but you have a yard in the back I-I know how to grow food. I'll be good. I'll eat…” He looked down at his knees, taking in his current seating situation. A tear leaked down his cheek, “...sit on the couch and use the bed if you really want me to. Y-you're nice to me, I j-just—” Cas let out a shocked up sob. “ _Please?_ ”

Gathering the shaking omega to his chest, Dean let him cry on his shoulder, sadness permeating the air. “Cas, you can't… Just because I'm nice doesn't mean you want to stay with me. You'll find someone nice you'll love, someone better.” God knew, it wouldn't be difficult to find better than a reformed misogynistic knothead with no real future, no family and very little time for himself at the end of a workday. Repetitive meaningless life. “A level-headed alpha or a charming beta even.”

Dean nuzzled his temple gently, realizing too late he was just encouraging the omega's attachment by scenting him (spring, rain, _happiness..._ ) and letting himself be scented. Torn, he squeezed his eyes shut. Affection for the omega was rapidly blooming in chest, he wanted him safe, content, fed and warm. He wanted to erase the tears soaking his henley from Cas's beautiful face. He felt protective of him. There was no denying it but Castiel deserved better than the first guy willing to put in the minimal effort to get him out of his abusive relationship. It hadn't taken much, luck and pliers was all it took. Anyone could have done that.

The crying subsided quickly, snuggled close Cas breathed him in slow and steady, arms crossed under the blanket between them. Opening his eyes, Dean leaned back and caressed off the tear streaks on the omega's left cheek with his thumb. Castiel sighed pressing the other half of his face to Dean's collarbone, contentment sparking up in his scent. So beautiful. Dean shoved down his desire for a kiss, be it on the forehead. A shy hand untangled itself from the throw blanket and palmed up his chest, settling over his hammering heartbeat, “I want you…”

Dean swallowed thickly, dropping his hand from the omega's face, “It's a bad idea, Cas. You don't know me. 'm no good."

"You're good. Good alpha…”

A hot wave of pride followed closely by renewed arousal and sour guilt pushed him back onto his feet, “No, I'm really not.” He said, not unkindly.

Confused, Castiel shot him an upset look at the rejection, mouth parted then closed on a silenced protest as he watched Dean flee for the bathroom and a cold shower.

 

If he were good, he wouldn't be lusting over some poor traumatized omega merely seeking comfort from what was probably the first alpha in his life who'd ever treated him right.

Water cascaded down on him, his face, in his mouth as he stood under the stream, insistent heat pooling in his hardening cock. He tugged sensually on it, smooth glides of his palm filling out his erection. He wasn't finding the will to turn off the hot water, pent-up arousal of days spent in the omega's company bubbling up at the base of his spine. He gripped himself tighter, and groaned, thick precome beading up under his fingertips. Dean turned his back on the stream to work the slick fluid up his shaft without having it wash off. He teased at the crown, thumb swiping over the bulbous head and over the slit. The soap had stayed unused so far and Dean could still scent content-omega on himself, good and _god,_  mouth watering.

More precome oozed out as he worked his thumb up and down the frenulum. He rubbed himself down again, obscene wet noises getting increasingly louder as he thoroughly soaked himself the more he breathed into the sweet omega scent sticking to his neck and jaw. Castiel's piercing cerulean blue eyes and soft skin. Slow and deliberate, he jerked his cock, twisting his fist on the head, tortuous heat building up in his gut, higher and higher… He groaned, toes curling on the shower floor. His cock had turned an angry shade of red, turgid and throbbing in time with his heartbeat.

He growled, dying for faster strokes but denying himself the relief of an easy orgasm. Dean had half a mind to jerk himself to tears before dunking himself under frigid cold water. He didn't deserve to come. He was disgusting, getting himself all worked up over a few scentings and praising words. _Good alpha_. “Fuck…” His cock throbbed hard under his unrelenting hand, just begging to come.

Dean wrapped his free left hand around the base of his shaft, cruelly squeezing his knot, massaging it until the loose patch of skin filled out, hard and like the most blissful sort of strain Dean could imagine. His cock leaked some more precome and his thighs quivered. _Good alpha._ He moaned pitifully, head lolling forward. Orgasm _so_ close, he could feel his body tense up, coiling and _coiling._  He couldn't let go, couldn't _not_ come. Dean let out a dry sob at the mere idea, he was so fucking weak. _Fuck._ It snapped, sharp bliss boiling over and he was coming. Spurts of pearly release adding his own layer of obscene wet noises as the rest fell to the shower floor to be washed off. Dean whimpered uncontrollably through his orgasm, the deep purple head of his cock quickly oversensitive as he kept a firm grip on his pulsing knot, dragging it on and milking it. His erection throbbed hard and more come seeped out, kept on twitching until it was dry and gloriously painful.

Stepping back under the water stream, basking in a twisted mix of afterglow and shame, Dean picked up the soap to scrub up the evidence of what he'd done. He tried telling himself it was a good thing, this way his dick wouldn't be so eager to pop a knot around Cas.

It felt like a lie.

 

Castiel had done the dishes and put away the leftovers by the time he got out and was idling in front of the bookshelves framing the TV stand. He had an old Batman comic open in his hands and was looking at the pictures. Wearing one of his new fitted dark blue sweater, jeans and thick wool socks, he was frowning in concentration, the set of his shoulders low and relaxed.

Slim as he was, Cas was still breathtaking.

Deserved so much more.

The comics used to be Sam's.

Dean missed the kid. Never stopped.

Shaking himself up of the sudden dull ache in his chest, he walked back down the hallway to his bedroom to lay down.

It was late anyway.

 

He woke up at the sound of his bedroom door creaking, it closed. Blurriness in his field of vision as Dean tried to crack an eye open told him he hadn't been sleeping for long. He scented the air, wary but could only pick up on Cas's presence crawling under the covers and curling into bed behind him. The omega yawned, his breathing deepening. Half of Dean wanted to object —this wasn't right— while the other half fell back asleep, contented.

 

The morning found them spooning, Cas's forehead pressed to the top of his spine as he slept on. A gloomy grey sun was filtering through the curtains and Dean berated himself for wanting to stay in bed and bask in Cas's body heat. This couldn't go on. It was wrong. He should have kept on locking his door at night. This was exactly what he'd been trying to avoid. Dean couldn't decide if it was better or worse that Castiel hadn't tried to proposition him again. It spoke of the omega's desire for Dean's affection in a way he should be actively trying to discourage but was next to impossible to do when the damn omega smelled so fucking _happy_. Cas sighed behind him as he stretched his legs before slotting them back in the groove of Dean's knees.

Groaning, Dean rolled over to face the omega crowding his personal space. Two clear piercing blue eyes peered up at his own sleep sticky ones and Dean's chest filled with dismay at the realization that Cas had in fact been awake for awhile and had stayed in bed to _cuddle_.

“...What are you doing, Cas?"

"I'm sleeping on the bed.” At first Dean thought this was Castiel answering the question literally (which admittedly was probably the case). Frowning, it took Dean a second to realize that Cas was in fact sleeping _on the_ _bed_. And on not some makeshift pile of blankets on the guest bedroom's floor.

“Why?"

"Because you want me to.” There was a brief pause during which Cas examined closely Dean's expression souring into a defeated scowl, “Because it's better for my back.” He corrected, repeating Dean's words back to him. Which… was just another way to please him.

Dean sighed, bringing his hand up to brush his knuckles on Cas’s cheek, “ _Because_ we’re equal and you _deserve_ to be comfortable too.” The omega closed his eyes, leaning into the touch, lips shaping nicely around the words as he mouthed them back to himself.

Like an information you learn to be able to repeat it later and pass the test.

This was a dead end, it suddenly downed on Dean with sorrow. Cas wasn’t gaining free will and self-preservation from this, merely how to mimic it. One week wasn’t enough to undo decades of conditioning. Worse, when given the option he’d chosen Dean over freedom. Familiarity; the only way of living he knew. What now?

As soon as the words left his mouth he felt like the worst kind of asshole, “I want you to go to Montreal.” Clamming up, Cas slung his left arm around his waist and clung to his t-shirt, worming himself closer to hide his face in the crook of Dean’s shoulder. “You’ll be safer there."

"I feel safe when I’m close to you."

"Cas, I’m serious."

" _No._ ”

It was like talking to a freaking child. Irritation growing, he was about to bark back a few choice words about the omega’s repeated bouts of refusal of communication when his phone started to blurt the first guitar riffs of Down on Love by Jamie Dunlap. His heart jumped in his rib cage. Who would call at this early hour on his off day? Let Charlie and Jo be okay.

He rolled away, reaching blindly for the bedside table. The screen was lit on an unknown number as he swiped at the acceptance button, “Dean Winchester."

 _"Heya, mate. It’s Benny._ ” Heart pumping wildly, Dean flailed trying to sit up only to be pushed down by a stubborn heavy weight crawling up his torso and making itself at home. Dean gave Cas a mild dirty look which only got him a blank expression in response. “You back already? Charlie said tomorrow."

 _"Went easier than I estimated. Remember when it used to take two years for the paperwork to go through? Yeah well, as things are, you could hop on my next trip as is and be through in_ three weeks. _Charlie filled me in."_

"When’s your next trip?"

 _"Monday morning_."

"Okay, let me grab us something to eat and Cas will be at your place in two hours."

 _"Dean, listen to me, I understand you don’t want to hear it but if you two mate, you could go through_ with him. _I don’t know if you’ve been following the news recently but shit’s about to go down and this might be your last chance to pass the border before they close it. We both know they won’t let an alpha in unless you’re mated.”_

Dean’s nostrils flared in anger at the mere suggestion, “Not even an option. Plus who's gonna fund this rebellion if I'm gone, huh?"

_"You've done more for this cause than most, we need the money, yes but you've earned your way out. You've changed for the good. Don’t you want to see Sam and Jess again?"_

"Drop it, Benny. See you in two hours.” He growled, shutting off the line. He dropped the phone back onto the bedside table. Castiel quickly climbed on him the rest of the way, knees framing Dean’s hips, expression determined. Sensing nothing good, Dean tried rolling him off only to find himself pinned on the mattress by his shoulders. As underweight as he was, Cas was still heavy.

“Come with me."

"How much of that exactly did you hear?"

"All of it.”

He should have known Castiel would be able to hear the conversation, goddammit. Dean struggled against the omega’s body weight pushing on the man’s chest and gritting through his teeth, “I’m not going to force a bond on you just to get my sorry ass across the Canadian border.”

"I know you want me I keep scenting it on you."

"Not the point, Cas!” Dean’s grip tightened, fingers digging into the skin as he shoved harder. Castiel groaned from the pain and reached his hand for Dean’s right wrist and viciously pinned it down across his sternum. The omega hissed, fangs visible and Dean futilely jerked his face away, he wasn’t going anywhere, “You’re coming with me."

"I can’t be what you want. What you need.” Dean strained, pupils dilated and wide-eyed as Cas snarled in frustration and shoved him down once on the bed, “ _Stop_ telling me what I want, you said I was free!” Dean’s heart lurched in his throat at that but forced the next words, final, “I’m not biting you.” Wasn’t Cas mated already anyway? Didn’t he smell mated a few days ago? His train of thoughts cut short when Cas keened in despair and lunged at him.

There was no bracing himself, teeth grazed his neck and he froze as unbearable pain overwhelmed his system. He whimpered, Cas’s fangs effectively latched on to him, blood pouring out into the omega’s mouth as he sucked on the wound. Dean felt the bond click into place almost immediately, pain taking the back seat to a glowing floating sensation in his mind.

Castiel licked the bite clean and sealed before lazily letting him go, curling on Dean’s chest and purring low in his throat. Fucking _purring_.

Stunned, Dean couldn’t help but palm at his neck and whine in surprised offense, “You _bite_ me."

"Sorry.”

Placated by their new bound, Cas sounded contrite now, truly apologetic.

_You said I was free!_

Smiling fondly, Dean shook his head in resignation and squeezed the omega to his chest, a quick scenting at Castiel’s temple filling his nose with the sweetest of scent, pure and perfect, and _his._  He pecked the omega’s forehead and closed his teary green eyes.

Let this whole ordeal be proof he was at least doing a passable job at teaching Cas free will and not be the biggest screw-up of his goddamn life, he prayed to a God he didn’t believe in.

 

They’d packed as much as they could easily carry in the trunk of the Impala. They’d drive to Topeka and Benny would take the lead from there. Call him paranoid but Dean had fiddled a good five minutes with the two unlabeled pill bottles, debating the soundness of trying to hide them in the interior pocket of his jacket or his underwear upon passing the border. For all the fuss he’d made to not take them, he was now terrified to see them taken away. It seemed like so long ago now. Who knows what that man he used to be would have done to Cas? Those pills had made him a man the omega could put his (still misplaced) trust in.

In the end, he put them in his duffel bag reminding himself that’s where Charlie smuggled them from; they were legal up there, and that it would just look more suspicious if he tried to hide them and they found the pills on him.

 

The house looked as it always did as he looked on it for the last time; destined to be used a safe house for the foreseeable future. Charlie had the set of spare keys in her possession afterall.

 

Castiel sat by him on the front bench of the Impala as Dean kicked her up into drive and out onto Lawrence’s roads.

 

Years late and it was his turn now hurrying his omega mate out of the country. He was going to see Sammy again. Apologize for his ignorance, not understanding; he wasn’t ready.

 

“I’m scared.”

Shaky fingers intertwined his own.

“I’ve got you, Cas. ‘m not going anywhere."

"Promise?"

"Yeah.”

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Note #1 : I'm Canadian (from Quebec) so I feel the need to say that I'm not just tooting our horn here. As far as I know, immigration and asylum seeking can take up to two years for the paperwork to go through BUT with the Trump administration, there were quite a few waves of immigration recently from the USA, people of color showing up at the border because they were getting deported back to their country and were asking for entry. They got in almost immediately, it caused quite the back-mouthing from people toward the Trudeau administration that's why I know. That's all I heard about for two weeks straight. So I do believe that in the world I imagined where the USA are quite unstable, people would get in through the border easily.
> 
> Note #2 : Fun fact, I imagine this story to happen 50 years in the future, post-Trump administration. So there's that.
> 
> Note #3 : This is the longest story I've ever posted in my entire life and my first A/B/O fic. Not the longest I've ever written, that's 60,000 words but it's laying somewhere unfinished. Funny enough, that particular story is in English too and I'm a French speaker.
> 
> Note #4 : Both soundtracks provided I used as inspiration, listening to them over and over again while I was writing. I'm sick of hearing them. The title is from 'I Should Fly' by Vermillion Lies.
> 
> Note #5 : I wrote this story to focus primarily on my idea of Dean's personality since between Sam, Cas and him, he's the one I have the hardest time conceptualizing in my mind, that and the idea of conditioning, and how someone would go about trying to 'free' another person from that state of mind. I often find that my stories revolve around very little except for the psychological development I'm trying to work through for myself so take it as you will but I had fun writing it. I'm not promising a follow-up but if I get an idea I think it'd be interesting to write Dean strolling around Montreal which is a place I actually know.
> 
> Note #6 : Confession, I wrote all this solely for the line, "You said I was free!"
> 
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> 
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> 
> That's it. Thank you for reading. :)


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